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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660272">how (and where) to propose: an anxious guide by paul matthews</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/exactlyemma/pseuds/exactlyemma'>exactlyemma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>happy(ish) paulkins [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Apotheosis, Alternate Universe - No Wiggly (Black Friday), F/M, Marriage Proposal, emma takes things as they come, i just need some happy paulkins okay, no nightmare time spoilers, no taking over the world wiggly that is, paul overthinks things, they deserve everything so they get this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:55:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/exactlyemma/pseuds/exactlyemma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul loves Emma. That much he's sure of. Being married to her, being her husband is the best thing he can imagine. That's the easy part, so it seems. Because he has a much bigger challenge. Who knew proposing could be so difficult?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>happy(ish) paulkins [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>how (and where) to propose: an anxious guide by paul matthews</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>at first i was a strong believer that emma definitely proposed, then i realized i could make a much better joke out of it. so this exists now</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t know how he wanted to do it. He knew he wanted to. That had been a bit of a shocking revelation all on it’s own. It had come to him randomly, one night, he honestly had no idea where it came from. </p><p>Emma had been stretched out on their couch, her head in his lap, his feet on a pillow on the little table in front of the TV, channel surfing while they looked for something to pass time, if not watch.</p><p>“You scrolled past the history channel,” she said, turning her head from the television to his face, confused.</p><p>“You hate the history channel,” Paul said, continuing to scroll through the channels.</p><p>Emma frowned. “But you don’t.”</p><p>“It’s just reruns, Em, I’m not missing anything exciting.”</p><p>She coughed. “Well, none of it is exciting for non-nerds, but if you say so.”</p><p>Paul laughed. The moment passed, and they ended up watching an old movie  that neither of them hated or loved. Eventually, the credits rolled and Paul began to move his feet to the floor, expecting Emma to sit up, as she usually did when he moved to stand (common courtesy, no?). But she didn’t.</p><p>He put his legs back down with a small sigh and gently prodded her. “Emma, come on. We can still cuddle in bed, I promise.”</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Paul frowned. “Emma, I’m serious. I need to pee.”</p><p>
  <em>Nothing.</em>
</p><p>On a hunch, Paul removed his hand from underneath her head. Emma shifted, mumbling something unintelligible and shoving her head further into Paul’s legs.</p><p>He had realized about a month into their relationship that Emma was a heavy sleeper. It hadn’t been a problem until right then. </p><p>It wasn’t really a problem, though. It was actually kind of adorable, Paul realized, when he scooped her up and carried her to their bedroom. He tucked her into bed and went to the bathroom, walking back into the bedroom minutes later to find her sitting up, squinting and looking generally confused.</p><p>“What time is it?” She muttered, laying down on Paul’s chest when he got into bed beside her.</p><p>“Just past eleven,” he whispered into her hair, checking his phone.</p><p>Emma looked back into his eyes. Kissed him. “Did I fall asleep?”</p><p>Paul hummed a yes, wrapping an arm around her, his expression teasing.</p><p>She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”</p><p>He shrugged. “It was cute.”</p><p>Emma smirked back, settling into his embrace and shutting her eyes. It had taken her a good year into their relationship to allow herself to be called <em>cute</em>. It apparently wasn’t a word she thought applied to her, a feat considering she barely made the five foot mark. It had taken a year of dating and a graduation cap (and gown; the gown was what did it for Paul) for her to accept the word. ‘Accept’ meaning Paul didn’t get smacked (however loving the manner of the attack) for saying it.</p><p>It had occurred to him not long after Emma had fallen asleep on him again. She could be his wife. Better: <em>he</em> could be her <em>husband</em>. Marriage hadn’t ever been a big concern in his life. He hadn’t been determined to be married with a house and kids by the time he was thirty, or anything, he wasn’t <em>that</em> boring and organized. No, much to the disappointment of his parents, Paul had never had any big aspirations in his life, other than to be an overall successful person and be able to afford rent, the clothes that kept him his job. </p><p>But Emma made him want more. It had taken a while for the shock to wear off that Emma would ever want to date him, so much as marry him. They’d talked about it. It was on the first date list for both of them. Both agreed that they’d been a little disgusted by marriage. On their first date. Now it had been four years, and Emma would say she was married when guys catcalled her, even direct them to Paul if they were insistent. They had spoken on a more recent date and both agreed that marriage was a lot more appealing when it was with the other. She already had a fake ring to fend off over-eager customers, Paul thought she might like a real one.</p><p>It wasn’t a big deal, or anything. He didn’t want to make it relationship ending if she said no. But once it was on his mind, it kept nagging at him.</p><p>So, after a month of torment, he decided to buy a ring. Actually buying the ring was a whole other process, which took longer than deciding he wanted to buy one. He had to find the perfect ring, for his perfect Emma. </p><p>He didn’t ask anyone for a blessing. Emma’s parents had been gone since before she went to Guatemala, and he might have asked Jane, but she was also six feet under. Paul considered asking Tom, but he knew Emma would have hated that, so he didn’t. Not exactly. </p><p>Not exactly in the sense that he didn’t ask for permission. It had been four years, and Emma had been in Guatemala when Jane and Tom married, so Paul had known Tom for about as long as she had. They had monthly dinners that were sometimes cancelled, often adjusted the time and date for the sake of busy schedules. Paul, however, was adamant they didn’t cancel that month, and Emma didn’t say no, mostly because she knew Tim’s birthday was the following month and she wanted to interrogate him on the most expensive gift on his list. Paul had a very different reason for wanting to attend.</p><p>“I bought a ring,” he blurted out the minute Emma had been dragged off to Tim’s room to look at the new model of RC car he’d gotten with all of his saved up allowance.</p><p>Tom and Becky froze, glancing between themselves and back to Paul.</p><p>“You mean, like…” Tom waved a hand over his left ring finger. “<em>That</em> kind of ring?”</p><p>Paul swallowed. “Yeah.” </p><p>A smile spread across Becky’s face. “Congratulations, Paul.”</p><p>Tom snorted. “Took you long enough.”</p><p>“Don’t congratulate me until she says yes,” Paul said, fingering the box in his pocket that he carried with him everywhere, knowing that Emma knew all of his hiding spots too well. She liked to peek at what Paul bought her for Christmas, specifically the clothes, so she could buy him color-matching outfits, though whenever she noticed they happened to wear the matching outfits she laughed and called him a nerd. The accusation always made him smile. There was only so much room for variety in their apartment; Paul was a creature of habit. It made it harder for Paul to get creative when hiding gifts, and it turned out Emma wasn’t good at faking surprise when opening gifts.</p><p>“Until I say yes to what?” Emma said, emerging back into the dining room, hand in hand with a smiling Tim.</p><p>Paul panicked. “Until you say yes to… um… ice cream?”</p><p>She giggled as she sat down, Tim’s perking up not lost on her. “I think the only person you need to convince on that front is Tom.” She wasn’t wrong. Tom was usually the one to complain that he didn’t feel like walking all the way down the block, or Tim had already had more than enough sugar. The man had no shortage of excuses to stay inside.</p><p>Tom’s eyes were fixed on Paul, and Becky was eyeing Tom, an awkward smile frozen on her face. </p><p>She glanced back and forth between Paul and Emma. “Congratulations?”</p><p>Emma smiled, apparently clueless to the diversion. “There ya go. Tom? Whattaya say?”</p><p>Tom drew his eyes to Emma, in a painfully obvious motion. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”</p><p>Tim leapt to his feet in celebration, and the crisis was officially averted.</p><p>That was the first of many narrow escapes.</p><p>It wasn’t always Tom or Becky’s fault. In fact, it rarely was. Paul didn’t think he’d propose in front of them. He was fairly certain Emma would hate a public proposal. No peer pressure, just the two of them. </p><p>That was part of the problem.</p><p>Every time it occurred to Paul that this was probably a good time to do it, he realized that there were other people around. The grand list of places Paul had almost-proposed at included: the nice restaurant they went to to celebrate Emma getting a job at the biological research facility downtown, the park afterward, their apartment (four times), the street they’d had their first kiss on (Paul was actually upset after he missed that chance, how sweet would it have been?), Beanies, CCRP when Emma surprised him at the end of the day with coffee, Tom’s house, and the ice cream shop. It made for a total of eleven considered and backed out of attempts, and six months since he’d bought the ring. Longer since he’d first begun thinking about it. And he kept slipping up and nearly referring to Emma as his fiancee. She hadn’t even said <em>yes</em> yet. </p><p>She might not say yes at all, he kept having to remind himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high should she think it was too soon, or any other countless (and valid!!) reason she might have.</p><p>So, Paul vowed that he would not make it past twelve fails. That gave him one more strike. And maybe he shouldn’t have made that deal with himself, because he couldn’t just <em>un-make it</em>, and now he felt more pressured to do it.</p><p>The urge came when he was sitting at his desk between the living and dining room, filling out some additional paperwork while Emma was sitting on the couch, book in her lap. Paul had put on some quiet (boring, as Emma called it, classical, as it was professionally called) music while he worked. It helped him focus, so she tolerated it.</p><p>He had dutifully ignored the tapping of Emma’s fingers on her book in time to the music, knowing she would not appreciate Paul pointing out that was it really so boring if it was finger tap worthy? He knew that wouldn’t go over well, so he kept the thought to himself, only smiling as he filled out the spreadsheet.</p><p>It occurred to him that this kind of peaceful domesticity was as close to married as unmarried people could come. This was his perfect opportunity. His hands traveled to his pockets, to the box. In the second he paused to wonder if now was really a good time, Emma got to her feet and walked into the kitchen, kissing his forehead on her way in.</p><p>“We’re almost out of milk,” she said, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Can we go to the store?”</p><p>Paul nodded, finishing typing out the final box on the sheet, shutting his computer once he was done. They kissed briefly and put on their jackets and shoes to go outside.</p><p>The grocery store was quiet in Hatchetfield. It closed at six most days, mostly because the town was small enough that they could get away with it. It was just past five thirty, and the store was mostly empty.</p><p>Paul let Emma lead the way as she checked items off her (short) list of things their kitchen was lacking, his head lost in curses of how perfect a proposal that would have been. Soft, quiet, no pressure. Just him, Emma, and whatever she decided. And their apartment and all their shared belongings. So maybe the odds of her saying no were low. It was still a possibility, and Paul didn’t want to completely rule it out.</p><p>“Babe,” Emma said, reading the label on the back of a new cereal brand. It was advertising some toy called a Tickle-Me-Wiggly, and they were both repulsed by it. Emma was more curious than disgusted though, so she read. Paul didn’t respond, lost in his thoughts.</p><p>“Babe,” she repeated, nudging him gently as she put the cereal box into their cart.</p><p>Paul started, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. “Hmm?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t it be cool if we were married?” </p><p>Paul was floored. She said it so casually. As if it had just occurred to her. A natural thought to share with him. He was facing the shelf, so she’d stood on her tiptoes to whisper it into his ear. She gasped and lifted her head away. Paul didn’t think he could move. There was rustling, and Paul heard the clearing of a throat.</p><p>“<em>Babe</em>, look.”</p><p>He turned to see Emma on one knee, pure glee in her eyes as she offered him a (still wrapped, thankfully) ring pop.</p><p>And something in him snapped.</p><p>He was on his own knee before he knew it, pulling the box out of his pocket and opening it, finally showing it to the beautiful woman in front of him. Emma. The woman he wanted to marry.</p><p>Her smile dropped as the implications caught up with her. “Holy <em>shit</em>… are you serious?”</p><p>Paul smiled nervously. “Is that a no?”</p><p>Emma scoffed and held up her ring pop. “Well, dude, I asked you first, don’t leave me hanging. I offered you my ring pop, yes or no? I mean… I still have to pay for it, but-”</p><p>“-You’re asking me?” Paul asked, his smile getting wider.</p><p>“I got down here first, it’s only fair.”</p><p>Paul bit back a comment about her height and she hadn’t had to go down as far as he had. He took Emma’s hands in his and pulled her to her feet. “God, I love you. Yes.”</p><p>Emma smiled into the kiss, pulling the ring from the box and putting it onto her finger. Once they parted, she actually looked down at it, nodding. “Not bad, boring-ass-black-coffee-Paul.”</p><p>Paul grinned. He couldn’t help it. Because he’d finally asked. Or… she’d asked. Whichever. It didn’t much matter to him. He was still her <em>fiance</em> . He’d done it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for getting to the end! hope you enjoyed :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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